


All The Tea In China

by BeckettSimpleton



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Afghanistan, Alternate Universe, Arthur Kirkland - Freeform, Colonial America, Family, Father/Son, Original Character(s), SOLDIER - Freeform, Wales (Hetalia) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckettSimpleton/pseuds/BeckettSimpleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Alfred's father, Arthur, is a soldier stationed in Afghanistan. Alfred lives for his father's phone calls home and in their over-seas conversation, Alfred teaches his father how to end all war, blow phone kisses and how much tea there is in China.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Away

“Alfie?” Helen Kirkland called, while holding the phone between her shoulder and her jaw while she jotted down the date her husband was meant to be sent home on the calendar in the front room. “Your father’s on the phone.”

Alfred vaguely heard his mother’s voice from where he was playing with some other boys on the pavement outside the house. Mummy said he was a big boy now, and he could play outside on his scooter with the other boys if he promised not to leave the street and came in when he was told. He was incredibly proud of his new freedom and made sure to obey every rule. Though sometimes, he might break a teeny rule, if Daddy wasn’t home.

“I’m coming in a minute, Mummy!” he told her and he pulled his scooter into their little front garden and next to the door.

“Hurry up, Alfie, it’s late where Daddy is, he wants to go to sleep.”

Alfred finished putting his scooter away and raced through the door and down the hallway to make up for lost time. He burst into the front room to see his mother holding the landline phone and talking to his father in a serious voice, which he knew had something to do with the nasty people who were on the news. Daddy kept telling him they weren’t all nasty, but Alfred thought that that might be a lie, because nice people did not try to kill his daddy.

He hovered around his mother like a persistent little fly until she finished speaking and when he handed the phone out to him, he practically snatched it out of her hand. She considered reprimanding him, but let it slide. It wasn’t like he was being malicious. 

“Daddy!” Alfred screamed down the phone so that the blond man miles and miles away cringed and yanked the phone from his ear. “You haven’t called Mummy for… 40 hours and she will be missing you!” Helen snickered at her son’s accusations, and his terrible concept of time. “Are you ashamed of yourself and did you catch the nasty men on the news!?” Alfred demanded.

“Please stop shouting, Alfie, your giving me a headache.” Arthur asked quietly, gritting his teeth. That boy was so _loud_.

“Sorry Daddy,” Alfred apologised and asked his father again in a smaller voice; “So, did you catch the nasty man on the news? He’s going to blow people up with a big nuclear bomb!” Alfred exclaimed (going off track) and exaggerating entirely. “I think I should put on my super hero clothes and lock him in the cupboard. It’s very hard to get out of there and then there would be no more fighting and Daddy wouldn’t have a gun and Mummy wouldn’t get lonely. Also all the people on the news wouldn’t die all the time.” Alfed’s voice got steadily louder as he rambled and at some point ended up talking about My Little Pony and giving copies of it to the Afghan troops. “And then they would all be too busy watching cartoons to want to fight anymore, and they’d all be saying girly things like ‘Apple Blossom’ and ‘Butterfly Bum!’”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, and even thought Alfred couldn’t see him, he could picture it by his tone of voice.

“I don’t think there’s a horse in that program called ‘Butterfly Bum,’ Alfred, don’t be silly. But fair enough, that a brilliant idea. When you’re an even bigger boy, you can become part of the government and you can put forward that operation.”

Alfred beamed at his father’s approval. “Well, why don’t you just do that, Daddy? When you go fighting tomorrow, you can put the box set in a cannon and fire it at them.” Alfred was totally serious, and so Arthur tried hard not to humour him.

“Well, you see, people don’t fight with cannons anymore, just because you saw some at Alnwick Castle, and also, I don’t happen to have a My Little Pony box set with me. In fact, you don’t even have a My Little Pony box set. Next time I’m deployed, please remind me to pick one up.” 

“I will, Daddy.”

Arthur smirked, but tried to hide it in his voice while he tried to weasel some information about what Alfred had been doing at school from his son. It was like trying to get blood out of a stone, as usual. Arthur often wondered if Alfred even stayed awake in lessons.

At the point when Alfred was getting a little dry on things to say and started asking again if his father liked baked beans, Arthur tried to wrap things up. He did not want to get into the beans argument again.

“Bye Alfred. I will be home in two week’s time. Do you know how long that is?”

Alfred thought for a moment. “Not really. Is it more than 60 hundred hours?”

“Okay, you have to go to school for 10 days, and then I will be home.”

Alfred groaned. “10 days is a long time, Daddy. I might have grown another inch by then!”

“Well then I can measure you when I get back. Be good for Mummy, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy, and you have to catch Mr Ladiffy and put him in the cupboard, okay?”

“I promise,” Arthur lied, deciding that Alfred needed to watch less television.

“Good. You have to give me a kiss, Daddy,” Alfred told him.

“And how am I meant to do that? Post it to you?”

“No, don’t be ‘idiculous,” Alfred complained. “You have to blow it, like a fairy flower.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Like this,” Alfred demonstrated, blowing hard down the phone like, making Arthur feel like he had a tornado in his ear, and spraying spittle all over the phone. “See?”

“Yes, you just succeeded in sending me a sample of your spit via telephone. Very clever.”

“Whatever, Daddy. You have to now.”

Arthur sighed. It was all very sweet, but sometimes, he felt like he needed his manliness intact. He blew down the phone line gently. Alfred scowled at the device.

“Daddy, do it properly, or it won’t get here, look,” he said, and blew another gale-force raspberry down the line. “I have to blow very hard so it gets all the way to ‘Gan’stan, see?”

“Ah, now I understand, you should have told me, after all, you are the expert on phone kisses.”

“I am, now do it back, okay?”

Arthur obliged, feeling like an idiot, but he did it.

“Did you get it?” Arthur asked. Alfred nodded. “Yeah. Did you get mine, Daddy?”

Arthur paused for a second in mock contemplation. “Oh, yes, here it comes. It’s definitely yours, it’s all sloppy and smells like sugary porridge.”

Alfred giggled. “Daddy, don’t be silly!”

“I am not! See, look, I know it’s definitely yours and not someone else’s by mistake, because it’s just like being kissed by a slobbery dog!”

Alfred fell about laughing. Even Helen chuckled, though she only had one side of the story. “Mummy, Daddy’s being ‘idiculous again!”

“Oh that man!” She exclaimed in mock horror. “Say goodbye to Daddy so that I can tell him to take phone kissing more seriously in future.”

“Okay Mummy.” He said, and went back to talking to his father. “Daddy, you are in trouble with Mummy for being ‘idiculous. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

“I am.” Arthur responded solemnly. “I apologise.”

“Good. I will see you in two weeks, Daddy, don’t be late like last time, okay!?”

“It wasn’t really my fault-“

“Okay?” Alfred repeated in his most dangerous voice.

“Yes, Sir.”

Alfred snickered at the title. “Okay, I love you more than… all the tea in China!”

Arthur tried not to groan out-loud. Not this game again. “I love you more than…” Arthur paused in thought. What couldn’t Alfred beat so that they didn’t get caught up in this deadly competitive game. “More than all of the moon and the stars.”

“I love you more than the-“ Alfred countered before Arthur interrupted.

“Wait! You can’t possibly love me more than the moon and the stars! You’re so little, it’s not possible! I win!”

“No, no! I can, I can, I’m a big boy, remember and I can love you more than all the tea in… Finland!”

Arthur and Helen looked startled. ‘All the tea in Finland?’

“Alfie, China is bigger than Finland, and Finland is not exactly renowned for its tea, but I catch your drift.”

“Okay Daddy, be careful and don’t get on the news.” Alfred told him, and Arthur knew exactly what he meant. Alfred had become obsessed with the six o’clock news and watching as all the names and the pictures were shown of the men who’d died at war.

“I won’t.” Arthur promised quietly. “Love you, Alfie. May I speak to your mother?”

“Um hum. Love you,” he muttered, handing the phone to his mother and leaving the room to trudge up the stairs and sit on his bed.

Something about speaking to his father left him in a very quiet mood. Not that he was sad, or wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to play outside anymore that day, and he didn’t want to watch telly either. He just wanted to sit alone for a little bit, or maybe with Mummy, after she’d finished talking to Daddy. He didn’t want to hear about the sad things she’d say.

He wondered what it’d be like if Daddy died and never came home. He supposed home wouldn’t change much, because he wasn’t there now, but still… Mummy would be sad, but she was always a bit sad. But she would be sadder. And he wouldn’t be able to call Daddy on the phone. And Daddy would be on the news, and every one would know about him because he was dead. Alfred thought that something about that wasn’t right. Everyone should know Daddy was helping now, right? Not if he died. Then it would be too late.

Alfred looked at his world map Daddy had Blu-taked to his wall. He looked for China. It was pretty big. There must be a lot of tea there. 

Well, good. The more tea, the better.


	2. Home

Alfred woke up on Monday morning two weeks later oblivious to any kind off pre-arrangement that he might have made. He sat through his mother scrubbing him with less than the usual fuss and managed to get his uniform on the right way around first try (Mummy was proud, she said). He was just spooning Cheerios into his mouth, down his green jumper and all over the table when something began to nag at him. 

He was meant to be remembering something important…

Did he have PE today? Hmm… No, Alfred decided. Mummy always remembered. Maybe there was something happening at school, or a new film he wanted to see was coming out. Yeah, that had to be it. One of those scary films like Coraline. Mummy didn’t like him watching them though, because he just cried through them anyway, so he’d have to wait until Daddy came home-

Daddy was meant to be home! He’d said two weeks on the phone, as far as Alfred could remember, which he’d said was 10 days at school. 

Alfred left his cereal and went to find the calendar and count all the week days so that he could figure out when Daddy was coming back. He got halfway before he saw a little note on last Saturday saying ‘Arthur.’

Alfred was not silly and he knew that his daddy was not actually called Daddy and that is name was Arthur Kirkland. Mummy had written when Daddy was coming home on the calendar but… Alfred double checked. Today was Monday. Yesterday had been Sunday. Yester-yesterday had been Saturday.

Daddy was late.

Again.

Alfred scowled at the calendar and, forgetting about his second helping of cereal, went to find Helen.

His mother was folding some clothes and putting them in the chest of drawers in the master bedroom. Alfred climbed on the bed, careful not to sit on Mummy and Daddy’s neat shirts.

“Mummy?” he asked, twisting a little flick of hair around his finger absently.

“Y-yes…?” replied Helen, sounding a little jumpy. “What’s the matter?”

“Well, I looked on the calendar and I saw that Daddy is late. Why? Did they stop his aeroplane again?”

“N-no. They didn’t.” Helen mumbled, not looking up at her son from her task.

“Well then why is he not home?”

Helen folded a few of his father’s shirts and stacked them away. “Well… He got held up, Alfie.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes at her. “Daddy’s not coming home in a box is he?” He asked bluntly. Even though he had a childish way of putting it, he knew exactly what the box was.

“No, Daddy’s not coming home in a box. There was just an accident with the car.” 

“What accident?” Alfred asked. “Did the engine explode and kill everyone?” he asked, and once again disturbing his mother at the way he spoke about death. She supposed he was just a kid, and didn’t get the whole finality of it.

“No, Alfred, I just told you Daddy is not coming home in a box, listen when you’re spoken to!” Helen exclaimed angrily. Alfred recoiled. Mummy never really shouted at him unless he’d done something horrible, like set all the tea towels on fire (and he’d only done that once). 

“S-sorry Mummy,” he muttered, curling up and just peeking at her back over his knees. He still wanted to know what had happened to his father, but was a bit scared to ask now. He needn’t though. When his mother finished, she turned to face him, and Alfred was a little surprised to see that she was crying.

“Sorry Alfie,” she whispered. Alfred was very confused. His mother rarely cried. She had only cried a tiny bit the first time Daddy had gone to fight, and even then, she was still smiling. The only explanation he could think of was that his Daddy had died.

“Mummy-”

“Alfred, Daddy and some other soldiers were being transported in a military car and they were bombed-”

“So Daddy’s-” Alfred stopped himself. He’d already been told his father wasn’t dead.

“Two of the soldiers were killed but Daddy and the driver are okay.” She told him.

“So why is he late if he’s okay?” Alfred asked. 

“Well, he had to go to hospital with the driver for a little bit, because he got a shrapnel wound to his leg, but he’s fine.” Helen finally told him.

“Did they have to cut it off?” Alfred asked in wonder. “Like the soldiers on the telly? And they only have one leg and they don’t have to go back to fight because they cannot fight with one leg and stay home forever but wear their uniform all the time somehow?”

Helen smiled at the hope in Alfred’s eyes. “No, he can still fight. They just have to stich his leg back together.”

“Like a sock?” Alfred asked innocently. Helen laughed.

“Yeah, like a sock!”

Alfred basked in his relief for a few moments before asking his mother another question.

“So when’s Daddy coming home?” He wondered.

Helen sat down on the bed and pulled Alfred into a spontaneous hug. “He’s coming home at 12 o’clock. You’re at school though. He was going to pick you up and surprise you.”

“But I want to go pick him up and see him look all smarty-smart in his uniform!” Alfred whined.

“Nice try, but you have to go to school. We’ll come and pick you up, okay?”

Alfred gave a world-weary sigh. “Okay…” He agreed, slipping from under her arms, off the bed and onto the floor. “But make Daddy wear his smarty uniform, okay?”

“Okay,” Helen promised. “But what is it with you and Daddy’s uniform? Do you want all your friends to see him?” She asked, smiling rather smugly. 

“Yes,” said Alfred proudly. “Because when all the boys die on the news, everyone knows who they are and that they were in the army and that they helped, but it’s too late because they died. Everyone should know Daddy helps when he is alive, right? Then they can say thank you! So Daddy must come and pick me up in his uniform.”

Helen smiled at Alfred looking all smart in his school uniform and saying such nice things about Arthur. They made them sweet in the USA, she thought.

“Certainly. I promise, even if I have to force him.”

“Good. Can we go now?”

Helen frowned. “Go where?”

Alfred laughed at his mother’s forgetfulness. “School of course!”

“Oh crap!” Helen exclaimed, while Alfred shouted ‘naughty word!’ at her. “I completely forgot!”

Helen jumped up and grabbed Alfred’s hand, practically dragging him out of the house, snatching up his bag on the way. “I’m so sorry! You’re going to be late!”

~*~All the Tea in China~*~

Alfred pushed through his class-mates to get to the playground first, and once he was out of all the complaining mass, his sharp eyes scanned the crowd of adults and children, looking for that brown/green uniform and red beret. Peoples’ legs kept getting in his way, which made things a bit difficult. He tried cutting through the crowd, manoeuvring through parents and students. He couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see him, he hadn’t come-

“Alfred!”

Alfred’s head shot in the direction of his name. Standing at the very back of the yard was his father, waving at him. Alfred’s face broke into a grin and he took off across the yard, his arms outstretched. He ran face first into Arthur’s legs with such force that he nearly toppled over. 

“Hello Alfred,” Arthur said, smiling weakly, pulling himself straight with one hand on the short wooden fence. He pulled Alfred to his feet by the arm and dusted off his uniform.

“Hi,” Alfred squeaked, looking like a shaken pop bottle, ready to burst from whatever was containing him. Arthur took his son’s hand and led him back to their green Mini in silence, though Alfred kept glancing up at him, as if he’d never seen him before. His father’s face was an odd red colour across his nose and forehead where the sun had burned him. Mummy told him it was that Daddy’s hair was too light, so in the sun, his skin went red, not dark like Alfred’s. Alfred always found it funny, and tried not to laugh at his father’s patchy sunburn. He also noticed his slight limp, but didn’t mention it.

Arthur still picked him up like a baby and put him in the back seat, but Alfred didn’t complain that he was a ‘big boy’ like he did usually with his mother and forgave his father for treating him like a baby. He always did for a little bit, before he remembered what Alfred could do now. Arthur gave Alfred a funny little look with his eyebrow that made Alfred giggle.

“You’re not speaking much. What’s the matter with you?” Arthur asked, clicking Alfred’s seatbelt in place.

“N-nothing,” Alfred told him, swiping his father’s beret from his head and messing up his hair, not that it made much difference. 

“Excuse me,” said Arthur taking the hat back. “That’s mine.”

Alfred giggled. “I was just testing!” He told him, tugging it back and putting it on his head wonky so it fell over his eyes. “See, it suits me!”

Arthur snorted and shut the back door, giving up on his hat. “Certainly, it does!”

Alfred happily hummed to himself all the way home, trying to get the hat to stay on his head without going in his eyes. “Do I look smarty-pants, Daddy?” he asked, in fits of giggles when they pulled up outside the house.

“Yes, certainly! You must show Mummy,” Arthur told him, helping him from the car.

“I will! I will!” he shouted, snickering.

Arthur felt as if he’d never left.

~*~All the Tea in China~*~

Everywhere seemed bigger and more daunting in the dark, Alfred observed, creeping through the house, dragging a toy monkey behind him by the arm, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. The world was much scarier without the colours around.

Still though, there was only the corridor between his room and his parent’s room. He was thankful their house wasn’t huge. He’d hate to get lost in the dark.

He shivered.

And the cold.

Alfred pushed open the door to his parent’s room and crept inside, pushing the door ajar behind him and padded over to the bed, sniffling.

Arthur’s arm was hanging over the edge of the bed. Alfred took one of his fingers and pulled it.

“Daddy,” he hissed. Arthur didn’t even twitch.

“Hay, Daddy,” he tried again, sniffling more. “Daddy?”

It was no use. Alfred tried not to cry out loud. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s and jumped up and down in panic.

“Daddy, wake _up_!” he pleaded as softly as he could, his bottom lip wobbling dangerously. The night was so much scarier when he was the only one awake.

It felt like he was the only person in the whole world.

“Daddy!”

Arthur grunted and pulled his arm back, forcing his eyes open.

“Alfred?” he whispered, his voice barely working. “What’s the matter?”

“I thought you’d died,” Alfred mumbled around his tears as he attempted to climb into the bed next to his father. Arthur shuffled over to make room for him.

“You thought I’d died?”

Alfred nodded, rubbing his face in his father’s shirt. “Um hum. I was just checking.”

“Checking what?” Arthur asked, his brain slow so soon after waking up.

“That I was dreaming,” Alfred yawned, curling up. “Love you more than all the tea in ‘Gan’stan.” He told his father before going to sleep. Arthur lay there feeling a little confused before glancing at Helen, who’d managed to sleep like a log through the whole drama, and pulling Alfred from the edge of the bed.

He decided not to worry too much about it. Alfred did the same thing with various other bad dreams – though this one was a new one – and he never remembered it in the morning.

Still, Alfred had never cried over a dream until now. 

Though then again, Arthur hadn’t either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this universe. I have a bad habit of sinking too far into AUs and ending up with half finished novels, but I think this one needs to stop here.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because my 3 year old cousin’s dad works in Afghanistan and when he was speaking to his dad on Skype and was asked to blow him a kiss he said ‘I have to do it really hard so that my kiss goes all the way to ‘Gan’stan.’ ‘I love you more that all the tea in China’ comes from something my grandma use to say when she was going to hang up the phone on me.


End file.
